Micro Malfoy
by voldemorts-dick
Summary: Draco Malfoy gets shrunk! A cute Drarry one shot that includes a lot of Preslash!


Micro-Malfoy

Draco Malfoy was not having a good day. When he woke up the house elves had burnt his toast, he had run out of shampoo and his hair gel had run off. "Malfoys never lose things" he murmured to himself while searching his entire bathroom for the minuscule pot. A few minutes later he straightened up and brushed off any imaginary dust that dared to touch his pyjamas while he hunted behind the toilet. The blue "Sleak-Eazy" pot was clasped in his hands.  
"Fuck" he sighed as to his dismay the pot was empty.  
The rest of his day had not gone well either. Father had lost four potential clients that morning and retired to his study to "rest his head" which meant he would reappear that evening drunk out of his mind and most likely aim a few choice curses at Draco in a fit of rage. Draco's holiday was almost over and he was not looking forward to returning for the legendary 8th year that had been specially constructed for the war survivors. He shuddered at the thought of the war that still haunted his dreams. "At least he survived" was the only thought that kept Draco from pitching himself off of the top of his cold unfeeling mansion. The day passed slowly, like most did, and soon the evening called, bringing with it a very drunk Lucius Malfoy.  
"I could take over the divination class" Draco whispered hoarsely as he watched his father stumble out of his study and into the foyer. His voice was sore from lack if use throughout the holidays but it didn't stop him from calling over;  
"Can you just hex me so I can go to bed?" Lucius stopped his drunken ramblings and stared at Draco, confused. Slowly, a small smile slipped onto his face and he pointed his wand to Draco's chest.  
"Tu as regarde ton amour"  
With a soft pop and a flash of purple light Draco disappeared. Lucius staggered into bed without a thought of his Heir.

The next day  
-

Harry Potter yawned and rolled over in his bed at Grimmauld place. The once dingy house had become a warm home for Harry, who had gone to the trouble of re-casting the fidelius charm upon it. Not because of any lingering dark forces, but because several journalists had taken to arriving at the Burrow at all hours to try and get an interview with the Boy-Who-Lived-Again as they dubbed him. That summer was spent mostly between the Burrow and Grimmauld place. The early weeks were silent- the mood was too sombre to be lifted so people were left to mourn the dead and comfort the living. It was tense at the Weasley's home with Fred gone and George's suicide, but their funerals held a lot of closure for Harry and he managed to move on and not forget but focus on the happier things in life. The twins would have wanted him to.  
Harry picked himself up off of the floor where he had fallen for the third time that night. A glance at the clock told him not to bother getting back to sleep so he tugged gently at the duvet that hung over the edge of his bed, until it floomped upon him. Now snuggly, Harry righted himself and aimlessly wandered around his house until he reached the kitchen. His brain was somewhat absent and foggy so complex thought was evading Harry. There was something on his table. It should not be there. It was small. A mouse maybe? It was blond. Harry walked in a stiff straight line to his kitchen sink and only came back when his face and hair were dripping wet. There on his kitchen table was a miniature Draco Malfoy curled in a ball, asleep. Unsure of whether it was real or not, Harry took Ron's well used advice; when in doubt, poke it.

Draco Malfoy had no idea where he was. He knew he was on a kitchen table, but the trouble with being two inches high is that you can't jump off of things like tables without dying or obtaining serious injuries. The last thing remembered was purple and pain. The sensation of having his bones crush into each other and shrink was not one that he would cherish. He shook his head to forget the sound of grinding that resonated through his head. At least he understood which spell that was. The Malfoy family had mixed with French Veela in the 1500's so many of their hierlooms had been passed down. Including a book called "La livre de petit amour" by Chien Montrousse. The spell must have been one that sent you to where your heart's desire was. Of course the book didn't take into account whether you were their hearts desire or not so Draco knew he was truly fucked.  
'Might as well sleep' he thought dryly before dragging a spare napkin over his body and curling up.  
A few hours later, a large pillar the height of his body pressed into him, crushing Draco's already sore ribs. He rolled over, to see that the pillar was a calloused finger belonging to Harry Potter.  
"What the fuck do you want Potter? I'm trying to sleep!"

Harry's heart leapt when Draco rolled over, but it melted when he spoke. Not only had his body shrunk, but the pitch of Draco's voice had been raised several octaves to increase his cuteness. He watched Draco state at him for a few moments before realising that he expected an answer.  
"Oh. Um. You're on my kitchen table." Harry cursed inwardly. Way to impress the cute boy.  
"I'm aware of that potter, however I would appreciate your assistance in leaving it." Harry smiled at the tiny eye roll that followed his answer, and burst out in laughter at the indignant reply.  
"Stop laughing at me! I am not funny!" Harry stopped laughing in favour of allowing a smirk to settle on his lips. Draco crossed his arms and stopped waving them at potter.  
"No, you're not funny. You're adorable! Just like a chibi!" Draco looked confused by the muggle reference that Harry had slipped into his sentence but chose to ignore it.  
"Potter just make me a normal size and we can both forget this ever happened, live our normal lives and be happy." Draco knew that his normal life included a lot of moping about Harry, but Harry didn't need to know that.  
Harry scratched the back of his head. On one hand he had a chance to take revenge on Draco, for all the times he had been a pisspot to him. On the other, Harry knew he wasn't that malicious. He opted for a midway point.

"I don't know how to." It was the truth at least. However, the truth did not please Draco.

"Well you'd better bloody well find out then!" He exploded in a cacophony of pointless and fleeting rage. 'Honestly!' Thought Draco, 'Why can't Potter just be sensible for once. He is always running off with half-baked plans but when faced with a simple problem chooses to remain oblivious to logic.'  
Harry surprisingly didn't react to Draco's provocation, and merely nodded. His words came out slowly, like he was thinking hard while saying them.

"I think Hermione may have a book about it, so I'll have to ask her in the morning." At this Draco panicked. If Granger saw him she would realise what spell his father had used, and know that he loved Harry. He had to stop him.

"Um Ha-Potter about telling Granger well um we should just you know um not." Draco cursed himself twice. Once for slipping on Harry's name, and twice for sounding like a stuttering fool. Harry was wondering why Draco was acting so suspicious. It was only Hermione after all, and Draco did apologise after the war so she wouldn't say no.

"Draco I promise Hermione won't judge you for being shrunk, and you know I won't. Trust me."

It was the trust me that caught Draco's attention. He lifted his arms, and Harry understood what he meant. His hand lowered, calloused and battle worn. Draco clambered on, gripping the thumb that was the height of his body. He stumbled a little as he was lifted to face height.

"Alright. But I only want to talk to Granger. After that you can leave me with her. You've done enough Potter." Draco prided himself on not slipping that time. Harry nodded in understandingly, but Draco knew he didn't understand.

"I get it. You don't want to owe me anything else after the war. You won't, I swear." Draco nodded.

"Yeah, we'll go with that."

The next morning the two set off for Hermione's apartement. Draco had spent the remains of the night curled up on Harry's nightstand.

"I would floo," Harry began conversationally "But Hermione lives in Diagon alley, so it's not far." In fact, Diagon alley was only a few minutes away. It was still undergoing some minor construction, but the majority of the stores had been cleaned up and reopened after the war. They approached Flourish and Blotts. Of course the bookworm lived above a bookstore. Draco had a good view of the new sign, as he was tucked inside of Harry's collar, head poking out the top of his jacket.

They entered the store, to a small ding of a welcome bell. The assistant ignored them. He probably had enough experience with Harry to know that he was welcome. Draco felt an odd sense of jealousy for Hermione. They climbed a small set of wooden stairs that were tucked just inside of the shop. A barely dressed Hermione Granger opened it. She wore a white fluffy dressing gown that was draped carelessly over her shoulders. One of her hands was rubbing her eyes, as she tried to fight off a yawn.

"Hi Harry." She mumbled, moving aside to allow the pair to enter. The sat on a very soft sofa, and Harry lifted Draco down. He took a moment to appreciate just how many books she had lining every wall. There was a photograph of the Golden Trio balanced on top of a wooden coffee table. They looked so happy, happier than Draco thought he had ever been. Hermione noticed him looking at it.

"It was taken just after the last battle. We were so happy to be alive that for a moment we forgot the dead, and could smile." Draco didn't care. He was focused on Harry's face. He looked ecstatic to be there, and it was beautiful. He didn't shift his gaze when Harry began to explain what had happened last night.

"So he just appeared?" Granger asked, glancing at him. He scowled. He didn't need the mudblood thinking he was soft; if she was going to figure out what is wrong with him, then she would start to get doubts about his hatred of her.

"Yes I just appeared. And I think it's time you left Potter. We had a deal after all." Harry looked taken aback, and for a moment Draco wanted to stop and ask Harry to forgive him. He wanted to pause and explain why and how he felt and hope that everything would be fine. He wanted for Harry to love him, to forgive him, to want him back. Fool.

"Yeah I suppose so. Hermione, you'll be alright?" God he wasn't even trying to hide the hurt in his voice. How Gryffindor. One would have thought that Harry had learnt how to shield his emotions after losing so many people to the war.

"Of course. I can deal with him." Hermione spat the last word in Draco's direction. At least she hadn't taken his appearance the wrong way then. Harry cast one more hurt glance at Draco before leaving.

"Bye Hermione. I'll check in later, okay?" He reached the door and turned around. Draco silently urged him to leave, and leave soon, before he blurted out every emotion he had ever felt about this brave stupid man.

"Bye Harry." Hermione said softly, shutting the door behind him. She turned and glared at Draco.

"Why don't you want Harry to know what's wrong with you? What happened to you anyway? What do you remember? And why did you come to me?" She sat down next to Draco and looked at him expectantly. He sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to get out of this easily.

"I know what cursed me and I know how to fix it. If you could get me a book called La livre de petit amour by Chien Montrousse then I can be out of your hair in a day at the latest." He was trying to be polite, but the distaste for his situation was showing through.

"Oh! I have that book somewhere!" Draco raised his eyebrows at her

"Don't look like that. The ministry decided to let us have at the dead Death Eaters vaults if they had no more family. The goblins took their gold, and I took their books. It's what I spent most of this summer doing, sorting and organising them I mean."

It wasn't what Draco had expected, but he supposed that it made sense. No one else was going to benefit from them, so why not allow the esteemed saviours their pick. She ran from the room, and Draco shuddered to think that there was even more books hidden around the house. He waited for a little under half an hour on that sofa, idly waiting and wishing that he had used the bathroom at Harry's house. He examined a few of the book titles, and recognised a few to be quite dark. 'I guess the Mudblood still has a few secrets left then.' He thought to himself. She wandered back in, holding his book.

"I'll let you have it, if you tell me which hex it was." She bartered. Draco sighed. He knew that she wouldn't let him go without knowing what had caused it. It was one of the problems with being a know-it-all; she had to know it all.

"Fine. But Potter doesn't hear a word about this. If he does, I swear I will hunt you down and burn every book you own." It wasn't much of a threat, but it was all Draco had at the minute. He pointed at the sofa, and Hermione lay the book down at his feet. He moved the pages one at a time, and it was hard work for someone so small. They were exceedingly heavy, but eventually Draco found the page he was looking for. He stood, panting, staring at Granger defiantly, waiting for her to say something. He could see what she was thinking. Couldn't any of these goddamn Gryffindor's control their face? She was confused, but the confusion slowly shifted into understanding, which slowly shifted into a smirk. It didn't look too good on Granger, but then. Smirking was Draco's thing anyway.

"Oh." Was all that Granger would say, but it wasn't the Oh of understanding, it was the Oh of knowing things that would benefit you greatly. It was the Oh that meant she had a great advantage over Draco. It was that Oh.

"Oh?" Draco questioned, even though he knew what the Oh meant. Granger didn't reply. She pulled out her wand, and cast the counter curse. It wasn't hard, it was a simple few words that returned Draco to normalcy. He thanked her politely, and made his way out of her apartment, cursing his life.

He made his way back to Malfoy manor, only to see his Father lying on the hall floor. Draco ignored him. He would wake up in the morning and drink and get angry and find him and curse him. It was their routine. Not one that Draco appreciated, but it was what would happen. He left the body lying there, and went to bed. He felt vaguely numb, as though he should have said something or done something differently.

An owl tapped on his bedroom window, and startled him from his slumber. He opened the window, and took a tightly rolled scroll of parchment from the owl. It bit him hard on the finger, and left before Draco could say thank you. He still felt numb. He opened the scroll and it read;

Draco,

Hermione told me what spell you were jinxed with.

For someone so smart you are so oblivious

I love you too you git

Harry

X

He blinked a few times, and re read it. It still said the same words, the same few sentences that made Draco's cold heart thaw and for the first time in a long life, he felt hope.

* * *

A/N: Well I hope you like it! It took me much longer than I am willing to admit, but I managed to complete the first one shot that I actually like! Woo!

Comment / Review x


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